Collection of Microfics
by InfectedByEli
Summary: This is a collection of short stories. Usually Cameron has slightly raised emotions than canon. Contains some AU writing
1. Bad Things Happen

**Bad Things Happen**

The scene......early post JD........a scavenging party and a surprise attack.

John opened his eyes, he could see nothing. For a moment he thought that he had gone blind, but slowly he noticed a light above and behind his head, and then some reflected light in front of him. His vision was coming back.

"Phew" he said to himself but couldn't hear it because his hearing was still recovering from the explosion. "Cameron?" he thought and sat up to check if she was ok, and instantly regretted it. Searing pain coursed up his left leg and he almost threw up with the intensity of it. He wasn't sure whether or not he actually screamed out loud. John searched his memory of the attack by the T-888, for clues of Cameron's safety and whereabouts. Nothing, it was a total blur. Slowly he raised his head to check his leg, to find that it was trapped beneath a huge pile of rubble, and probably broken. He was stuck.

-------

'Reactivating'

'Analysing damage.......superficial'

Cameron sat up, checked her surroundings then stood up. Looking at the remains of the T-888 with what can only be described as disgust, Cameron's first priority was 'John'. Reviewing her memory files yielded little info on John's location. A 'line of sight' check showed nothing. Thermal imaging was no use either. Cameron was forced to search for John the old fashioned way. Twenty minutes of searching rooms, moving rubble, lifting girders did not result in finding John. Cameron was now getting tearful and inefficient, she couldn't let anything happen to John. John was her life. She dare not call out to John for fear of giving away their position. No doubt the explosion would have been noticed and a Skynet re-con party would soon arrive.

Cameron blamed herself for the attack, if she had been watching for T-888s instead of playing tongue hockey with John this would have never happened. After all, John's safety was her responsibility, she hated herself for failing John.......again.

The latest update on the odds of finding John in time was at 13% probability, Cameron was loosing all hope. She had already worn the skin off the ends of her fingers but she didn't care, finding John was all that mattered. Her left hand was twitching, which made her remember the time John lovingly repaired her.

*not too far away* "Eeeaaahhhh"

"John?" Cameron couldn't believe it. She raced to the co-ordinates she had calculated as the source of the scream, and found John trapped under a huge pile of rubble. "John, at last I found you, I'm so sorry". A quick scan of John reveals that his ankle is broken under the collapsed wall. "John, I need to anaesthetise your leg so that I can free it".

"Ok, but hurry. I think I can hear something coming"

Cameron had been so absorbed with John's condition she had completely missed the sound of the HK approaching. She applied a tourniquet to John's leg and injected the anaesthetic directly into the nerves for maximum effect. John wondered "Why the tourniquet?" but then the true implications became clear when Cameron pulled out her machete.

"No, just clear the rubble, we still have time".

"I'm sorry John, we don't have time. Please forgive me".

John braced himself for the pain. He knew he would not be able to physically stop her or dissuade her, he just had to accept that he was going to lose the bottom of his left leg.

"John, tell me when you can see that HK.............John, focus.....NOW!"

John snapped back to reality. He turned to where the noise was coming from, thankful that the anaesthetics had kicked in, but not enough as it turned out. He would never forget that sound as the machete cut clean through the tissue and bones of his leg, or the pain. He was only slightly aware of being lifted swiftly, with the utmost care and compassion the situation would allow. The HK came into view as they rounded the corner, John couldn't be sure if they had been seen. There was no time to worry about that, they would just have to risk it. The tunnel entrance was not far away, but the approach was open. They would be clear targets if they were spotted. About 20 feet from the opening of the tunnel they were blasted with bullets from the HK. Most of them missing their target some of them hitting Cameron square in the back, forcing her to lose her balance. But somehow she managed to make it into the tunnel and away from the HK.

Running through the network of tunnels to the base Cameron became aware that John's vitals were starting to fail. She stopped running and put John down on a large crate to examine his leg. The tourniquet was still tight and there was no blood loss from John's leg.

"John, can you hear me?"

"I'm cold Cam, so cold"

"Tell me where it hurts........John, your vitals are falling to dangerously low levels. I'm going to have to look for further wounds". Cameron starts to remove Johns outer clothes.

"Hey, what are you doing? Mom's going to be back soon. She can't find out about us"

"John?...........I think you're delirious" Cameron finds a large patch of wet blood on John's vest. He was hit by the HK earlier. It's a bad wound.

"John" said Cameron, "you're wounded and I can't fix you"

"Cam, it's ok"

"No, you don't understand. It's all my fault" Said Cameron, beginning to cry.

"Shhh, it's ok, everybody dies eventually. I'm just glad that I got to share my life with you. Hold me, Cam".

Cameron knelt down next to John and cradled him in her arms. Trying to soothe him with cooing sounds and kissing him gently on his face and mouth. Telling him repeatedly that she loved him with all her heart. John already knew, and he loved her totally. Finally, when John had taken his last breath, Cameron broke down in floods of tears. She knew that if she could self terminate that she would do it now, but she couldn't.

Lifting John's body, Cameron headed towards the base. She was met by the perimeter guards who radioed ahead to alert Derek, the leader apparent of the resistance, that Cameron was bringing John's body back.

Cameron arrived at the base HQ to be met by a dozen armed resistance fighters and Derek at their helm. "So, you finally killed him, you metal bitch".

Cameron lovingly places John's body down on the table, not once taking her eyes off John, and not once acknowledging Derek's presence.

"I'm talking to you............soldier" shouts Derek

After straightening his hair and clothes Cameron slowly releases John from her gaze and looks Derek full in the face. "I resign" she states calmly.

"That's not an option. Guards arrest her"

Cameron quickly disarms one of the guards and holds him in front of her while aiming the gun at Derek. Derek slowly approaches Cameron aiming his plasma rifle directly at her chip.

"What do you think this will achieve? You're just adding to the charges".

"I want out. Without John my life is worthless".

"Your life has always been worthless".

"Fine, finish it then" while pushing the gun into the neck of the guard.

"Ok bitch, you asked for it"

Cameron relaxed her hold and lowered the gun "Thank you"

Derek pulls the trigger and Cameron sees a brief flash of light before her chip is vaporised.

End.


	2. Crying Angel

**The Crying Angel**

John had had enough of waiting for Cameron to come out of the shelter, half way house, or whatever it was. Getting out of the 'Ram', he steels himself for what he might find inside. There has been no activity outside the building, no one has come or gone for 43 minutes. Pushing the door slowly inwards John is surprised to hear the normal sounds of people going about their day, when what he really expected was a blood bath of dismembered bodies and destroyed furniture. Straightening up John walks inside. A couple of people turn to look but most of them just ignore him.

"Excuse me" says John to one of the people in the lobby, "have you seen this girl?". He passes them a photo of Cameron.

"It's ok. It doesn't matter" John caught sight of Cameron through the glass door at the rear of the lobby. She was leaning against the wall, and she was.......crying.

Gently opening the door, John finds himself approximately 10 feet away from Cameron. She has her back towards him. At this distance he can clearly hear her sobbing. A lump forms in his throat and he has to fight back the tears that are trying to blur his vision. This level of reaction on his part completely throws him, but then again he has never heard Cameron cry before.

So as not to alarm her, John takes a wide arching path around Cameron and is then maybe 5 feet away, and directly in front of her. "Hey......" he says quietly. No response. A little louder "Cameron..."

"Allison"

"What?"

"My name........it's Allison"

Cameron raises her head slightly to look at him. A brief flicker of recognition passes over her tear stained face. "I know you, don't I?"

"Of course you do Cam.....Allison, it's me......John."

"Let's go over there and sit down at that bench." he said, holding out his hand for Cameron to take. John led her half way down the garden, away from prying ears.

"John.....?" somewhere deep down she was certain that she knew him, but couldn't quite grasp the memories. "I don't remember" she cried helplessly, her body writhing in time with her sobs. John couldn't stand to see her like this, he ignored the fact that a glitching cyborg could kill him in an instant and slid closer to her on the bench. He put his arm around her shoulders. She leant into him and buried her face into his neck. Warm salty tears ran down her cheeks and onto John's shirt. He had longed for emotional contact with Cameron, but not like this. He cupped her face in one hand and lifted it gently so that he could look into her eyes. Those perfect brown eyes.

Cameron gasped. "I tried to kill you"

"Hey, it's ok" John wasn't sure whether this sudden memory was good or not, but he wasn't going to leave her here like this. "I forgive you. I 'have' forgiven you". John places a single kiss in the middle of her forehead.

"My name is Cameron......I remember, something"

Cameron raises her face to the same level as John's. Lifting her hand to the nape of his neck she pulls him towards her and kisses him passionately on the lips. They are undisturbed on the bench for a full 10 minutes, at the end of which John breaks away gasping for breath. Only to dive forward again for two more minutes of pure heaven locked in a passion worthy of the gods themselves.

Cameron had almost fully recovered to her previous state before they reached the 'Ram'. Pausing to look back at the 'shelter', she places her hand on John's arm and says "There's one thing I am still not sure about"

"What's that?"

"What's a pike?"

End


	3. Mr Fergusen is illish Today

**Mr Ferguson is Ill-ish Today**

Cameron walks into John's room "Are you busy?"

"No"

As Cameron closes the door she checks to see if anyone has seen her enter John's room, no-one is there.

John looks confused "Did you change?"

"It's hot out" is Cameron's casual response. She even manages to slightly sway her head while she speaks.

"Since when do you feel heat?" He was right to be suspicious.

"I feel heat" she replied, matter of factly, as John watches her climb onto his bed. Looking first,to see if there was enough room to lie down, Cameron finally settles. John can't see but there is a slight smile of satisfaction playing on her lips. She makes note of the fact that he hasn't objected, or moved away, even if he still has his arms raised and supporting his head.

Even John had not expected this turn of events, and he was not comfortable with it. It was far too close to his deepest desires. "Are you hoping that Riley's going to see us in bed together and be totally scarred for the rest of her life, or something?"

"No. I watched Riley leave until I couldn't see her any more"

"And then you and Mom high-fived" he sniped.

"You bring danger into Riley's life"

"I know that" John replied with some irritation, "I'm not stupid"

"But sometimes you do stupid things. It would help me, to understand why"

"Humans do stupid things. So I wouldn't worry about it and be happy you're a machine"

"I'm a machine, I can't be happy. But I understand more than you think."

"So you understand that I'm going to keep seeing Riley even if everyone thinks it's a bad idea?"

"I understand that it's a bad idea, and........I understand that being John Connor can be lonely"

Her voice started to falter when she pictured 'her' John Connor sitting alone in his quarters. He had distanced himself from others in an effort to be objective about the decisions that needed to be made. How could he send his 'friend' on a potential suicide mission? His answer was, to have no friends. To live that lonely life for the sake of all humanity. That was until he was almost assassinated by an infiltration unit. The solution was staggeringly obvious, and yet genius. The first future John Connor had sent a T-800 back in time to protect his younger self. Skynet had unwittingly provided the TDE to enable that to happen, and now Skynet had unwittingly provided John with another solution......Cameron. The perfect solution to a crippling problem......loneliness.

"Oh yeah. How do you understand that?"

"You and I talk about it a lot"

"We do?"

"We do. We will"

A slight arching of her eyebrows draws John's attention to those perfect eyes. Those eyes that are searching his. Searching for the slightest sign of affection. The affection she would see in 'her' John's eyes.

Almost lost to the moment John manages to break eye contact. His gaze drops down to a plunging neckline, where the simulated breathing makes her breasts rise and fall at an alluring rate.

In a last ditch effort John stammers "I nee....I need to get some sleep", but he is beyond hope of resisting.

"When we talked, you would hold me in your arms. It comforted you. It comforted me" On those last three words her hypnotic gaze lowered and John allowed himself to notice the melancholic expression on her face.

"I'm sorry.......about what I said before. I shouldn't have said it"

"Said what?"

"About being ....... 'happy' that you're a machine. It was wrong of me. Whether or not you have emotions....feelings....I shouldn't have said it"

"I have emotions, they are different to human emotions, but they are still emotions." She turns to face John and her left knee rests gently on his left thigh. John swallows. Snuggling up to John Cameron places her head on his arm, which is still supporting his head. This proves to be physically uncomfortable for John, so he lowers it. Cameron is now in the crook of his arm and his hand rests naturally on her waist. "You can tell me anything John. I won't judge you.......I will always.......always love you." with that she gently kisses his neck and with her free hand unbuckles his belt.

Two hours later Cameron slowly closes John's bedroom door and starts her nightly patrol of the premises. Before stepping outside, Cameron allows herself to review tonight's files and is rightfully proud, in a robot way, of a first class piece of infiltration. Storing the files in the sub-folder named "Averting road trip to Mexico", in the main folder "Riley", Cameron proceeds with her routine.

end


	4. Halloween Fun

**Halloween**

John had finally 'completed' his costume, and was walking along the road with Cameron towards their first 'victims'.

"Tell me again why we're doing this"

"This is a traditional activity for American citizens. We are American citizens. We need to be seen as American citizens, to fit in, to 'not' stand out" explained Cameron....again.

"Yeah OK, I suppose"

Cameron was annoyed at his downbeat attitude. He had seemed in better spirits while he spent 3 hours creating his alternate personality. Cameron had gone for the standard Goth_Chic look, While John had chosen to 'become' Heath Ledger's 'Joker'.

They stood on the porch of the first house they came to, after Sarah had dropped them off. Cameron held, and then gently squeezed, John's hand to encourage him into a better mood. On contact with John's skin she could tell that he was in a state of anticipation, so she let go his hand and knocked on the door.

The door creaked open and a blood curdling laugh emanated from within. A long knife appeared in the half opened doorway and pointed itself at John. Cameron immediately put herself between it and John. Lurching forward she knocks the door off it's hinges and into the hallway. Grabbing the hand that was holding the knife, she twists it and the weapon falls to the floor.

John wakes from his stunned shock and grabs Cameron's other hand before it reaches Mr Skeleton's throat. "OMG, I'm so sorry" says John with credible concern. "She's just got back from intensive military training. I guess she needs to get 'off duty'. I'm sorry. Hows your hand?". John presses $100 into the man's hand "For the door". With that he turns and ushers Cameron away from the house.

Safely out of sight, he confronts Cameron "What the hell was that?"

"He had a knife, he was a threat"

"No he wasn't. He was play-acting. It's just pretend.......Oh.... and hand it over"

"Hand what over? He didn't give us any candy"

"The glock...."

"Oh" Cameron hitches up her long dress and removes the gun from it's thigh holster. Reluctantly she hands it over to John.

'Hmm...still warm' thinks John. "Didn't I say no guns?"

"Yes, but...."

"No guns" Insists John while stowing the glock in the rear of his waistband. "OK, here's the next house. Let's try not to kill them before they give us some candy"

"Before"

"At all" Corrects John.

John knocks on the door while holding Camerons elbow. The door is opened by a young 'jock' who is obviously wasted.

"Whoa.......nice costume dude. Wow your chic is really hot" then it occurs to him that he didn't bring any candy out. Turning, he trips and falls "Hey I've fallen and I can't get up......nice carpet......Zzzzz".

John closes the door and stomps off down the road with Cameron following. "John, where are you going, we haven't finished yet"

"Yes we have"

"But we didn't get any candy"

Stopping and facing her he says "It wasn't about the candy, it was about feeling normal"

Cameron steps back and looks at his clothes and face make-up with a confused expression and a slight head tilt. John throws his hands up in the air and continues to stomp off.

Much later they turn the corner and stop in amazement at the scene in front of them. Two paramedic trucks, a fire truck, four patrol cars and right in the middle of it all.....their house. John wipes his hand down his face and mutters "Perfect, that's just perfect. So much for not standing out". He can only begin to guess at what Sarah had been up to.

/end


	5. Johns First Date

**First Date**

John stops the car and turns off the engine. Turning to Cameron he says "I don't think this is a good idea"

C - "why not?"

J - "It's just......I've never been on a date before"

C - "It can't be that difficult, most people do it"

J - "Well I'm not 'most' people"

C - "No.......you're different"

J - "Yeah I'm weird"

C - "I don't think you're weird"

John rolls his eyes, Cameron thinks 'You're welcome'.

C - "Have you got everything?"

J - "Like what?"

C - "Money, Fake ID, Phone, Glock......"

J - "I'm NOT taking a gun on a date......jeez."

C - "......Mouth freshener?"

J - "Why would I wa.......oh"

John blushes slightly, Cameron likes it when she embarrasses him.

J - "And that's another thing......how do I know if I'm a good kisser?"

C - "We should try it now"

J - "What?.....are you serious?"

C - "I have studied human relationships and there is usually a lot of kissing involved"

J - "You've studied human relationships?"

C - "We have the internet........I don't sleep"

Realising that John wasn't going to make the first move Cameron leant forward towards him. "Open your mouth"

J - "What?"

Lifting a small peppermint spray Cameron repeated "Open your mouth". He did, and received a small squirt of 'Freshmint'. "You squirt me now" requested Cameron and opened her mouth. John obliged.

Before he knew it Cameron's face was only an inch away from his, and slowly getting closer "OMG" thought John, "It's really going to happen!" their lips, slightly open, met and John felt Cameron suck some air out in order to maintain the kiss. Slightly moving their heads and working their jaws the kiss lasted for 45 seconds but for John it seemed endless. And all the time they kissed he was aware of a faint vibration, he didn't hear it but sensed it through bone conduction.

C - "So now you are ready for your date?"

J - "Errrr......yeah, I guess"

Cameron watched as John left the car and walked over to the petting zoo where he had arranged to meet 'Suzie' for their date. A single tear rolled down Cameron's cheek and dropped onto her shirt. All that mattered was that John was happy, her happiness was not important.

end


	6. Riley is Problematic

**Riley is Problematic**

Sarah, shouting upstairs: "John........pancakes........on the table"

John, "Huh?....wha?.....oh"

John moves to the bathroom and washes. When he looks up he see the word 'Hi' written in the condensation on the mirror. It is followed by an 'X'. "Riley? But how?". He distinctly remembers seeing Sarah cleaning the bathroom not long after Riley left yesterday.

Dressed and bored John flumps down at the table for breakfast. "They're cold"

"They weren't" says Sarah. "Derek's taking me to the shooting range. We'll be out all day, see you later"

"But?"

Sarah stops and looks coldly at John, who says "OK........", once Sarah is out of earshot he adds ".......try not to shoot Derek!"

Cameron steps around the corner "I'll make some more pancakes"

"No, it's all-right"

"I can add vanilla" says Cameron

"Ooh, Camcaeks, ok"

Cameron waited until John had almost finished and then asked "What are your plans, today?"

"Plans?" echoed John. "Lets see. Mope around all morning. Have a nap. Stare despondently out of the window in the afternoon. All that, while trying not to get killed by Skynet"

"You're down aren't you?"

"You can tell?" Asks John in a dead-pan smart-ass way.

"Yes, I can tell. We covered it in psyche class"

John rolls his eyes.

Cameron collected John's plate, saying "You need stimulation"

"Huh?" did he imagine it, or did Cameron briefly raise her eyebrows when she said 'stimulation'? "What kind of…....'stimulation'?"

"Physical stimulation"

[inside John's head: "o_O"]

"John, have you showered today?"

"Errrr.....no"

"Then you should. Hygiene is important"

"Oookay" with that John goes upstairs and starts the shower.

Downstairs, there is a knock at the door. Cameron creeps up to the door like a spooky ninja and looks through the spyhole.......it's Riley. Cameron opens the door and stares at Riley.

"Is John in?"

"No, he went to the shooting range with Sarah and Derek"

"Oh Ok. When he gets back can you tell him I called?"

"I'll tell him"

With that Riley walks off intending to phone John as soon as she is out of sight of that creepy sister of his. Meanwhile Cameron quietly rushes upstairs and into John's room and takes the battery out of John's phone, so that Riley cannot check her story out.

Now to sort out John's room. It is a mess. "If John is going to lead the resistance, he is going to have to learn to be more organised" thinks Cameron in a nurturing manner. She makes his bed, picks up all his worn clothes, tidies. She then goes across the corridor, to her room, where she picks up the bag of rose petals she collected earlier that morning.

John gets out of the shower and notices the mirror. With the mirror being completely covered in condensation, due to the shower, the whole message is now revealed;

…....Hi

…....X

….Cammy

John is like "ZOMG WTF?"

John wraps the towel around himself and heads back to his room.

Cameron carefully scatters most of the petals onto the floor of John's room, saving enough for the bed. She hears John coming out of the bathroom, she has to move fast. With great dexterity Cameron disrobes and lies down on John's bed. Just in time to be able to throw the remaining petals into the air so when John opens the door it is raining rose petals down onto Cameron.

He stands in the doorway looking in on this beauty, lying naked, amid a nest of rose petals. His breathing faltered. He could feel his manhood rising.

[inside John's head "Don't think of sex.....don't think of sex.....don't think of sex....."]

"D-did I hear the door?"

"Yes, it was Riley. I got rid of her."

"Good" said John. "After all...........incest is better than knife sex"

"Yeah" Cameron agreed. "Stupid fucking robots"

end

Oh yeah.........it's an alternative Universe.

Hehe.

.


	7. Snowbound

**Snowbound**

It is 6am, the Sun is rising over an alien landscape. Slumped in an armchair and facing the window, John Connor surveys a gently undulating savanah of snow. He had been there all night. Broken only by an occasional abandoned vehicle, the snow was almost perfect in its uniformity. Humbled by the magnificence of 'Mother nature', John left his self imposed sentry duty in order to visit the bathroom.

Hunger was laying in wait for John as he slowly padded back down the hallway. Doubling back to raid the fridge and make himself a steaming hot mug of coffee, was the only answer. After all, he needed to eat, he wasn't a machine........guilty thoughts were driven away by reason.

To say that John was worried was an understatement. It had been a little over ten hours since Cameron had taken the Dodge into the local town to pick up some supplies. That was before the snow had arrived. He was certain that something had happened to her. He couldn't help but remember that time she had completely lost it, and ended up in a hostel.

Being stuck in the house, completely useless, well that just made it worse. Even as he was dialling the numbers he knew it was pointless, but he had to do something. He had to at least try. Straight to answerphone.....again. "Damn you, Cameron....where are you?"

Returning to his vantage point, John slowly ate the slices of cooked meat, and pot of pasta salad that he had liberated from the fridge. Startled by a sudden sound he froze. Another sound...a muffled plopping noise. The Sun was taking hold of the day. Snow, warmed by the Sun, was falling from the branches of small trees in the garden and puncturing the even covering with ease. Fed, warm, and relieved, even the coffee couldn't keep him from closing his eyes.

His daydreams took him to a time when his love for Cameron was still unacknowledged. Tears formed beneath his closed eyelids whilst visualising her perfect beauty. A slight smile playing on her full lips, the merest raising of an eyebrow above inviting brown eyes. A wink, hidden from others like a conspiratorial secret. These things spoke volumes to John, but all that Sarah or Derek could see was a cold 'robot'. He felt privileged to be part of her world, and sorry for those that were too blind to see.

'blinki-plunki-ta-ta-de—do...'

"What the...?" In an instant John was wide awake, and cursing himself for falling asleep. "Phone?....where's my phone?" He remembered having it in the kitchen.

'blinki-plunki-ta-ta-de—do...'

The sound was coming from the kitchen. 'But that's not MY phone' he thinks while on the way to answer it. Once in the kitchen he discovers that it IS his phone ringing. He smiles as he realises that Cameron must have changed the ringtone.

"Hello"

"John...is that you?"

Disappointed that it isn't Cameron, John presses the two buttons on the keypad that confirm his identity. Putting the phone back to his ear he waits for Derek to reply with his code.

"Hey Derek. Where are you?"

"Your Mother and I got caught up in the storm last night. We had to get a room.....two rooms in the airport hotel"

"Airport?"

"Yeah. Long story. We tried to call, but the landlines were out and the cellphones were all going to answerphone. But it looks like they're working now so that's something. It'll be a few hours before we get back. Are you and......Cameron OK?"

"Yeah, we're fine" He wasn't going to give his Mother the satisfaction of knowing Cameron had possibly screwed up, again. Not until he had no choice. "I'll see you when you get back"

Now that the cellphones were working, John wondered why he wasn't dialling Cameron's number. The plain truth of it was that he was scared to. Back at the window he looked out at the snow, he found it strangely calming.

'blinki-plunki-ta-ta-de—do...'

"Damn that ringtone"..."Hello"

"John...is that you?"

"Cameron, where are..." She had hung up.

John frantically dials Cameron's number. "Hello" she answers. John punches in the code. Cameron does the same.

"Where are you?"

"Twenty minutes away"

"What happened?"

"I can't explain now. John, there is a terminator on it's way to your location. Do not leave the house it will track you easily in the snow. Try to hold it at bay until I get there."

"What?"

"John, take the shotgun and the DU rounds and use them from the top of the stairs" With that Cameron hangs up.

Wasting no time, John retrieves the pump action shotgun and loads it with the DU cartridges. Taking the higher ground of the stairs he lies in wait for his would-be killer. He didn't have to wait too long before the front door is opened. It is now in the Living Room, the next room is the hallway. The door opened slowly and quietly, something tugged at John's intuition. This wasn't right, something was messed up. Suddenly it hit him. A terminator wouldn't waste time sneaking around, the door would be splinters and the metal assassin would be upon him. He couldn't help himself, he had to be sure he wasn't firing on a human. Gripping the stock and the fore-end of his shotgun tighter he girded himself, "Who's there?"

"John, is that you?" called Kacy from the Living room.

Sighing with relief John answers "Stay there Kacy I'll be down in a second". But Kacy didn't hear. Kacy wouldn't be hearing anybody, ever again. Kacy was dead.

After rushing through the open doorway the T888 paused slightly to add thermal augmentation to his HUD, to compensate for lack of light at the top of the stairs. This slight pause was what Cameron knew would happen at precisely that spot. Already in her sights the 'metal' hulk had no chance of surviving. A gentle squeeze of the trigger and the .50 caliber round was discharged from the barrel of the Barrett M82A1 at 2,799 ft/s . At a distance of only 500 feet the kinetic energy in the round was still extremely high.

Cameron's aim was perfect, she even compensated for the parallax distortion of the plate glass window through which she was firing. The organic sheath was rent from the left side of the terminators head, and a deep gash was hewn into its coltan skull. Remaining prone in the snow Cameron fired another round. This struck the stunned terminator directly in it's left optical receptor, destroying it instantly. Sufficiently recovered from the initial shock of what had been playing out in front of him, John released the safety and aimed the Benelli M3 Super 90 at the stricken Terminators already damaged head. It took only three shots of DU ammo to finish the job. The dead cyborg fell backward like a sawn tree.

Flipping the safety back on, John gently lowered the gun to the floor, and sat down on the nearest step. He was still waiting for the adrenalin fuelled shakes to settle when Cameron appeared at the foot of the stairs. The relief on her face was obvious to see. Stooping momentarily to remove the triple 8's chip, Cameron approached John. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride" replied John. The look of confusion made John expand on his short statement. "He fooled me. I thought he was Kacy.......Do you think...."

"There is a high probability that she is already dead. It's what they do"

John suddenly realises that Cameron is soaking wet and her usually clean skin is.....dirty. "You had better get cleaned up. I'll deal with all this."

"Thank you"

John watches her climb the stairs and acknowledges that she is getting more self aware with every week that passes. He also accepts that he loves her more, every week.

End


	8. The Guard Dog

**The Guard Dog**

John stirs slightly but is still trapped in his nightmare. "No.....no......".

Cameron looks down at him with a slight expression of concern playing around her eyes. She considers her options, waking Sarah, fetching Derek, but decides against both. Sarah had been sat stoically on the bare wooden pew until 3am, before succumbing to the paralysing need to sleep. Cameron was fully aware that Sarah had been pretending to not be tired. To not be waiting for the 'guard dog' to go bad again. It was understandable, but Sarah didn't realise that that was not going to happen, not yet. She knew there was nothing she could do, or say, to Sarah to convince her otherwise.

"Ungh.....no" mumbles John.

Cameron silently approaches Sarah. Steady breathing, relaxed facial expression, rapid eye movement. Sarah was apparently having, a different dream to the one that was currently torturing John. Returning to watch over her charge, Cameron briefly considers waking him. Possible outcomes include John making a startled noise.....Sarah would wake to find a 'killer robot' leaning over a screaming John.....this would be less than desirable. At a loss for a productive means to bring peace to a troubled John, Cameron drops back into a comforting pattern of activity and performs a perimeter check.

Subroutines responsible for continuous assessment of tasks, highlight an issue. Her security sweep has only been 96.8% efficient. A check of her memory files reveals omissions, small gaps, but gaps none the less. It took only 538 milliseconds to find entries that correspond with the time tags for the missing segments. These entries make no sense to her. Three video files, spanning a total of 12 seconds were found. All three are of Cameron staring at John's blood stained top that had been carelessly abandoned on the bathroom floor. This was puzzling, as was the fact that she seemed puzzled by it. Introspection is new to her. She had often been unable to understand human motives, but never her own. Her motives are mission orientated, always. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom revealed no clues as to her preoccupation with John's T-shirt.

An inspection of the garment in the glare of the kitchen lights shows only that it is blood stained cotton, with several small rips. No useful information garnered from this examination, Cameron discards it. Checking for noise with a quick glance over her shoulder, a small packet is removed from the rear pocket of her jeans, and pushed deep into the days detritus in the trash can, followed by the T-shirt. Knowing that John didn't drink tea and Sarah did, it was easy to introduce the Donormyl to Sarah's diet, without even being there when the drinks were made.

Back with John, a quick check of the room shows that Sarah is peacefully asleep. John is silent now but still troubled. Now is the time to act, the time to take charge of the situation. Having stripped down to her underwear, Cameron kneels on the floor next to John. Modifying her external temperature to 0.5°C higher than John's takes a few minutes, during which time she reviews the file where she was trapped between the trucks. So many lies, but one truth. Carefully raising the thin sheet that covers John, she slides in next to him. He jumps slightly but doesn't stir. His body is automatically drawn to the warmth of hers and they snuggle up together. Over time his breathing slows and his body relaxes, the metal monsters that chase him relentlessly, fade to nothing. His nightmare is replaced by a dream of pure contentment. The love of his life is there with him, she has no face, no discernible body, but he knows without a doubt that she loves him in return, that she will never stop loving him. He continues to sleep peacefully long after Cameron has left his 'bed' and resumed her 'guard dog' duties.


	9. Truth and Deception

**Truth and Deception**

John was still trying to sort out some of the details. He had chosen a secluded and suitably dark corner in which to brood over the recent events that had led to Riley's death. He knew Cameron had nothing at all to do with it, but that didn't tell him who 'had' killed her.

Cameron entered the room, carrying her two Glocks and the cleaning materials. She didn't look at him, or acknowledge his existence at all. A few minutes earlier John had apologised for his lack of faith in her. He had apologised in front of his Mother, in fact, at his Mother's expense. He still felt a little guilty about that, he hadn't planned it that way, but it can't be helped now. John was expecting Cameron to admonish him for causing friction in the family, pointing out the security risks, but she simply sat at the table and proceeded to strip the first gun.

Sitting perfectly still, watching Cameron strip and clean her Glocks, John was struck by her efficiency of movement. Every pass of her hand was for a reason. Every visual inspection, precise. No effort was wasted. To anyone else, this would just be watching a machine run through it's preprogrammed routine, but not for John. John was looking for something, and he had found it. He had found it simply by 'watching'. Amazed that he hadn't noticed this before, he kicked himself. This wasn't the first time he had seen Cameron maintaining her guns, far from it. But this 'was' the first time he had studied her doing so. Was she even aware of it herself? He could only guess. He wasn't going to draw her attention to it, for fear that she would stop doing it.

Having observed the first gun being cleaned, he wasn't completely sure whether he had actually seen, or merely imagined. Thankfully, Cameron was nothing if not industrious. He had an opportunity to quiet his doubts when she cleaned her other Glock.

And there it was. Having stripped, cleaned, and lubricated the gun, now was the time to reassemble it. A slight smile, a very slight smile, waxed and then waned in just over a second. This was accompanied by a similarly very slight wiggle of her fingers. Not the glitch. Not just her left hand, and nowhere near as obvious. The fingers of both hands 'wiggled'. Almost in anticipation of the joy of rebuilding this gun. In fact, John was convinced that it was exactly that, anticipation. Cameron, demonstrably, derived pleasure from turning this collection of independently useless components into a working, functioning, gun. Giving them a purpose, a reason to exist.

At that thought, that cognitive function, that dawning of a truth which could not be denied, John knew. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this Guardian Angel sent back to protect him, wasn't 'just' a machine. She was far more than that, far more than the sum of her parts. She was truly sentient, and as such she deserved the title of 'person'. Even though such an accolade was tarnished by the very nature of the creatures that had coined the word.

Clearing his throat, John spoke, "What I said earlier....I meant it."

An emotionless stare prompted him to clarify his vague statement.

"When I told you.....that I shouldn't have doubted you....."

"I know.....It might have been wiser to have not said it in front of your Mother. The increase in....."

John couldn't help but snigger at the level of insight he had into Camerons thoughts. And at how little he trusted those insights. That would have to change.

Interrupted mid sentence by John's laughter, Cameron watched as John rose from his chair and walked towards her. When level with her chair, John paused to place a hand on her shoulder "I'm sorry Cameron, I won't doubt you again. Goodnight." With that he walked off leaving her to her duties. Had he turned round for one last glimpse, one last photo-memory of the person he was beginning to realise was the most important being in his life, he would have seen something to warm his heart.

As John's hand rose from Cameron's right shoulder, her left hand moved to touch the cloth, that John had touched. As her eyes captured this event, a faint, but not too faint, smile adorned her face. She derived pleasure from John touching her. She wasn't going to draw his attention to it, for fear that he would stop doing it.

She had known for some time that John was the only person that mattered to her, emotionally. And that John was her purpose, her reason to exist. But he must never know. She was sentenced to unconditional love, that could never be allowed to grow to fruition.

/end


	10. Valentine

AN - This is just a bit of fun for Valentine. It was pointed out that John wouldn't be that retarded, and I have to agree. It was a simple device to allow for a moment of dawning realisation.

**Valentine**

Feb 12

Location - 'Empty Vase Florists'

"I'd like to arrange a delivery of Valentine flowers, please" John gives the address and requests that they put a poem in the flowers, he dictates the poem, so that the recipient doesn't recognise his hand writing....

You're in my thoughts and in my heart  
Wherever I may go;  
On Valentine's Day, I'd like to say  
I care more than you know.

With that done, he returns home in a much happier mood. He had been worrying about this for a few days. He hadn't been able to get away on his own, and thought that he would never get the surprise arranged.

Feb 13

Sarah walks down the stairs to find John in the kitchen, at 8:30am. He is preparing breakfast. 8:30am........on a Saturday? Later she notices that his whole demeanour is wrong. He is far too......happy, like the cat that got the cream. Eventually one of those annoying radio adverts breaks through her mental firewall. It's a particularly obnoxious one about Valentine cards.....Valentine?....'No, he couldn't, could he?'

John is fully occupied with his gun cleaning in the dinning room, Sarah sneaks up to his room. "Where would a teenage boy hide a Valentine card?" Having exhausted all the ideas that her limited window of time allows, she gives up and grabs his dirty clothes off the floor. Laundry time. Back in the kitchen she shakes her head in annoyance at the obviously still occupied pockets in his jeans. Handkerchiefs, money, sweet wrappers, receipts, keys.......wait, 'receipts'.....She finds the $35 receipt from 'The Empty Vase'......'Why, the little.....'

Sarah calls the florists from the safety of the garage. "Hello. If I give you a receipt number could you give me the details of the order, please?"

"No we couldn't do that. I'm sorry madam"

"Firstly, I'm not a madam. Secondly, you allowed a teenage boy to use 'my' credit card to pay for some criminally overpriced flowers. Now I suggest you give me the name and address of the recipient, or I will report you for wilfully accepting illegal payments"

The assistant acquiesced to Sarah's demand. "Thank you. Cancel the order and keep the money" with that she hung up. "So that's why you're so happy is it John? You think you can romance 'tin miss', well not while I have breath in my body. It will be interesting to see if you're so happy tomorrow"

Feb 14

Cameron stands in the lounge looking out of the main window. Every now and then she turns her head to look out of the little window by the front door. Sarah notices this but shrugs it off 'Who knows what goes on inside a cyborg's head'.

John is lurking in the lounge, waiting for his Valentine surprise for Cameron to arrive. He keeps imagining her response. He knows she won't be all "Oh wow, they're beautiful John, thanks, *kiss kiss kiss*, oh look, a card. Ooh John, I love you John." No, that would be far too weird. The most he is hoping for is a slight smile, that is deliberately hidden from Sarah. The hidden smiles and touches are the ones he gives most importance to. Like that time when they were investigating Vic's files. Cameron winked at him as she was leaving, and she was careful to hide it from Sarah who was standing right there.

Shocked out of his reverie by a heavy knocking on the door, John makes sure he gets there before Sarah does.

"Delivery for a John Baum"

John's smile instantly drops 'Oh no, the shop got it wrong' he thinks. Then he notices the huge Teddy Bear under the guy's arm. In a daze he signs for the Bear, and is given a card, in a sealed envelope.

Sarah makes a grab for the envelope, but John is back in the world and pulls it out of harms way. "Is your name John Baum?"

"No, but neither is yours"

"Touché, but you're still not reading it"

"Fine" and Sarah moves off into the kitchen.

John looks round to find Cameron, she's not there. She has slipped away unnoticed. He opens the envelope and removes the contents, there is a poem on the card......

I am different from the rest,  
I know that you're impressed.  
You're not sure how you feel,  
Not sure if this is real.  
I'll make you want me more,  
I will be 'your' bitch-whore.

* from an admirer *

You are my reason to be,  
You complete me.

'What a weird poem' he thinks to himself. Finally he thinks of Cameron, and how she disappeared when the delivery turned up. 'I hope she wasn't upset by this.' Finding the door to the garden isn't closed fully he goes through it, and there is Cameron....with her back to the house.

"I wanted to surprise 'you' with a delivery, but....., I dunno, I think I've been sabotaged". Missing a faint smile that spreads across Cameron's lips, he looks over his shoulder at Sarah. Sarah, who is doing her best to hide the fact that she is spying on them, and failing miserably. John is determined to make sure Cameron knows that he hasn't been leading any girls on. "I wonder who arranged this?.....wait.....this has 'Morris' written all over it"

"It does?"

"yeah......." realising the 'literal' meaning John rephrases "No.......not 'actually' written on....anything. It means, I think I know that Morris sent this."

"Do boys normally send each other gifts like this?"

"What?.....No.....well.....yes, some 'pretty' boys will. But this sort of thing is a joke, they send the Valentine gift to make some poor guy think he's got a secret admirer when he hasn't. Then they sit back and watch him make an idiot out of himself trying to track her down."

"That doesn't seem like much of a joke"

"It isn't, believe me". John stares at the ground, and appears to be lost in thought, reliving memories that he would rather forget.

The resulting silence is broken by Cameron "Morris didn't send this".

The confused expression on John's face prompts her to elucidate "He doesn't know where we live"

"Oh, right", John remembers the decision to exclude Morris from the house, due to Morris' constant mental undressing of Cameron.

"Did I see a card?"

"Yeah, someone went to a lot of trouble with this. The quality of penmanship is superb, the wording of the poem.....not so much"

John found Cameron's terse "Show me", to be quite.......well he wasn't sure what to think. He handed over the card as requested.

Cameron scans the card "What's wrong with it?"

"Well.... 1, who would put 'bitch-whore' in a Valentine poem? 2, a Valentine poem with a footnote? 3, the words are all......wrong."

"The first line states that she is 'different'. Maybe that is why the poem is 'different'."

John applies his mind to the problem in earnest, Cameron leaves him to it. She wonders how long it will take him to work out the identity of the poem's author.

He spends some time picking out possible jokesters and admirers, but then remembers that 'no-one' at school knows where he lives. So finally he turns his attention to the poem. "Different?.......different?......I'm different.......you're different......wait, what!" John remembers a brief conversation 'You seem........different' - 'I am'. "No way!". Further down the poem the words 'bitch-whore' jump out at him and demand some attention. Another memory 'I'm a bitch-whore' - 'What?'. "This can't be right, but if it is, it means that....." John notices that he is talking to himself, and quickly checks that no-one can hear him, he is safe. That's why she didn't answer the door and interrogate the delivery guy.....she was expecting the delivery.....she ordered the delivery.

His mind was still processing the implications of his recent discovery when Cameron returns to the garden. "You sent me the Bear, didn't you?" There was no malice in his voice so Cameron answered honestly "Yes, it seemed like something I should do"

"Oh yes, Cameron. It is definitely something you should do"

And with that, she gives him his second gift of the day..........a smile, shared only by the two of them.

/end


	11. What is Love?

AN: This is just a thought that occurred to me, would John's previous involvement with Uncle Bob make him more than wary about another AI relationship? It appears that John is far too emo in this micro, but I had to get the thought out of my head so I wrote it down. Enjoy or not.

**What is Love**

"Hi, my name is Suzie, can I take your order?"

"Hi Suzie", beamed John, "I'll have a burger and fries".

"Just fries" was Cameron's unfriendly response.

As Suzie turned to leave, Cameron's left foot moved 1 and ½ inches outward, causing Suzie to stumble, but not fall. John saw a slight smile appear on his companion's mouth.

"What was that?" breathed John.

"Affection...for you"

"What?....How is that showing affection?"

"See that couple over there?"

"The white trash?...yeah?"

"That is how she showed her love for him...I watched them"

"They don't love each other. Yeah, they _said_ they did, but they both doubt the other, they're both in denial. She was just marking her territory"

"So how will I know love when I see it?...Or experience it" She added sheepishly.

John had been dreading this question. She had been toying with this 'love' concept for a while, but thus far he had been able to avoid the subject. Today his luck ran out. "...OK...love is...when everything you do, think, and say is geared toward one goal...to make someone else happy. It doesn't matter to you if you look stupid, as long as they are happy. It doesn't matter if you make sacrifices to make them happy. But all this must come from inside you, it can't be demanded by someone else. Like those two over there."

After a few moments of obvious introspection, Cameron looked up. "I love you, John."

"You want to protect me, to survive Judgement Day. I get it. It's what you are programmed for, that is all"

"No...well yes, but it's more than that. I believe I am beginning to love you, John Connor" She leant forward and embraced him.

John accepted the hug, grateful for the opportunity to hide his face from her inquisitive, but beautiful eyes.

John couldn't help but think of his 'Uncle'. Apart from his mother, Uncle Bob was the only other ...person...John had ever truly loved. A brief flash of anger and betrayal crossed his heart. He wasn't going to be hurt like that again. He wasn't going to let someone in, through his defences, so that they could tear him down from within. He wasn't going to love her. He wasn't going to make that mistake, not again.

He recalled something she had said previously, "Sometimes it's lonely being John Connor". 'Ha' he thought, 'It's _always_ lonely being John Connor'.

/end


	12. Back From the War

AN: This started out as a lighthearted 'awkward turtle' micro, but it got quite nasty towards the end, sry.

**Back From the War**

"I can not......will not, let Danny Dyson carry on working towards something that will destroy ninety nine percent of all humanity. Sarah, you know this makes sense". It was a deliberate move on John's part to call his Mother by her given name. By this simple tactic he had removed himself from the 'dependency' part of their relationship. There will always be times when John will allow Sarah to treat him like her teenage son again. He needs those moments just as much as Sarah, although he refuses to admit it, even to himself. But today was not one of those times. Today he had a point to make, an argument to win, a future foe to vanquish.

"We know where he is, we know what he is doing. We have all the details of the building's security, we have the codes to get around that security, and what's more.....we have this..." John reached into his pocket and withdrew a clear plastic bag. Inside, was an off-white orb with a few, thin tendril-like red lines cascading around the surface. John let it fall onto the table and Sarah was horrified to see an iris staring back at her.

"Is that an....eye?" An expression of revulsion etched into her face. She wasn't disgusted with the eye, but with John. "Why would you even carry that around with you?"

"Relax, it's not real." He glanced to where Cameron sits, they share a conspiratorial smirk. "It's a mock up of Danny Dyson's retina." Picking up the bag and waving it in front of Sarah's face, "This will open doors. Well, it will open the doors that have retina scanners attached to them, at least. The doors to the inner sanctum of Kaliba - Research and development."

"How did you get a scan of his retina?"

"Didn't need to. We hacked a scanner and downloaded the cache."

"That simple, huh?"

"Simple? Not really. 23 good soldiers, good men, family men, died on that mission. So no, it wasn't simple, but it was successful."

Within seconds, the faces of his dead comrades had paraded themselves across his consciousness. The misery and despair of the parents, widows, and children that were left behind will haunt him for the rest of his life. As will the veiled hatred in their eyes. Cameron instinctively knew what was occupying John's mind. After all, they had spent the last five years of their life sharing every moment and every experience. She knew him better than he knew himself.

"I didn't mean to....." Sarah started to say, but was interrupted while searching for the appropriate word.

"You weren't to know, Sarah."

This was probably the nicest thing Cameron had said to Sarah since their return. She was, of course, simply buying time for John to rejoin them in the here and now. Sarah still hadn't fully accepted the fact that her son was in a relationship with a cyborg, an artificial intelligence, a machine. It still bothered Sarah immensely, Cameron was ambivalent to this.

Turning to look directly into Cameron's eyes, Sarah couldn't contain her distrust. There was more than a hint of accusation in her voice when she asked "And where were you when those men died?"

"She was by my side, hacking the scanner. Where did you think she was?" His eyes were glaring, daring his mother to break rank and defy him. He knew that he would have to take a stand against Sarah's negativity towards Cameron. As far as John was concerned, it couldn't happen soon enough. If it was allowed to fester it would just come back and bite him in the ass, and he wasn't going to let that happen.

"At your side? Your right hand 'man', huh?"

"My partner, yes"

Sarah slumps back in her chair but her eyes never leave John's. This is not a defeat, just a tactical withdrawal. Sarah isn't going to give John a chance to reinforce his delusions that 'Cameron' could ever start to reciprocate his feelings.

"James, do you have anything to say?" John can see his mother is entrenched and decides to engage the 'quiet man'. At least James is neutral towards Cameron, which means his agenda is the matter at hand, surviving an attack on a Kaliba installation.

"Well, assuming that everything here is as accurate as you say..."

"It is" Pre-empted Cameron.

Determined to complete his sentence, he continues "...assuming that it is, then it is just a matter of working out the entry and exit points, and the timing. That, and acquiring enough C4, without raising any FBI anti-terrorists alarms."

While James was talking John had walked the small distance around the table, and was now standing behind Cameron's chair. Holding her left hand in his, he gently caressed the side of her neck with his free hand. He could see his mother squirming in her seat, even though she was doing her best to hide her awkwardness caused by his display of affection. She wasn't going to be baited.

At precisely the moment Sarah thought she couldn't feel any more uncomfortable, Cameron slightly leant into John's caresses, and allowed her eyelids to lower slightly.

Sarah made a bolt for the kitchen "I need coffee".

With just the three of them in the room James chuckled slightly "Did you two plan that?"

"Plan what?" was the innocent reply.

James wagged his finger, while he grinned and slowly shook his head. "You know? During the six months you were gone, her worst fear was that she would never see you again. Her only son. Her only family."

"James..."

He held up one finger to show he hadn't finished. John backed off from the man being interrupted twice in as many minutes. "Her second worst fear was you two....happening". While saying the word 'happening' James held up his hands facing each other with the fingers splayed, and gently moved them together "Tread lightly, is all I'm saying. She's been through a lot".

"James I know you're being a good friend to my mother, and that's what she needs. But what else she needs is to understand that I'm not her little kid any more. I know she's been through a lot, she's dragged me through most of it. But during her last six months I have spent five years in Hell. I have seen things that will never leave me. I have done things that I will share with nobody, things that I will take to my grave. Through it all I had one person I could rely on. One person who wouldn't judge me. One person who hadn't abandoned me. One person that made the fight worth fighting. One person that mattered more to me than life itself. And if Sarah can't deal with it, then so be it. I will be gone from her life, forever".


	13. Skin Deep

AN – Cameron is not canon in this micro, my dialogue sucks. Also, there is a non-ending, if Stephen King can do it, then so can I, lol.

**Skin Deep**

Taking time to ensure a thorough cleansing action, John is more than aware of the stimulation that his hands are achieving. Shielding her body from the downpour he moves his attention from her shoulders to her upper back. Knowing what is below the flawless dermal covering, John still has trouble comprehending his unquestioning love. He is, or will be, the saviour of humanity, but he would kill them all, without regret, to defend his lover. His lover, who was built to be the instrument of genocide, but through her own volition chose to defy her orders, chose to defy her programming.

A turn of her head at his now stationary hands and preoccupied state, brings him back to the here and now. A slight smile plays on his lips as he remembers far more innocent times, when a similar motion would have roused unspoken hopes and desires. Desires that have now been met in full. His eyes involuntarily sweep down, past the two hollows in her back to her perfectly formed, athletic ass. She giggles quietly as his hands reach their target. That response is yet another expression of her love for him. He knows full well that she isn't ticklish, he knows that she is deliberately stimulating him without even touching him......yet.

Moving in close, his hands travel around her hips. Gripping them, he leans forward to whisper above the sound of the heated water emanating from the shower head. "That was effective...". They both see the humour of John using one of 'early' Cameron's expressions. Her face beams as she recalls how Aspergic she appeared to others, and how much she has grown since then.

A fresh application of shower gel sees John's hands climbing her well toned stomach and coming to rest just below her breasts. Cameron's arms reach backward and around John so that her hands can grasp his buttocks. He needs no further encouragement. Gently encompassing and manipulating the sublimely perfect mounds he feel her nipples respond and become firm and extended. Exhaling raggedly, Cameron emits a low moan of pleasure.

John wants these moments to last forever, but he knows they can't. He knows that Judgement Day isn't far off.

Furrows appear on his brow. 'Was that a lump?' His left hand returns to the side of her breast where it finds the source of his apprehension. 'No, this can't be cancer, surely? Can terminators even get cancer? It's probably just damage from a fight, I'll mention it later.'

-----

Twenty days, and the scar on the side of her left breast has yet to heal. John is more than concerned.

"This should have healed by now. Shouldn't it?"

"Yes. This was.....unexpected."

"I know you said that I shouldn't worry about the thing you cut out, but I think we're a bit beyond that now. Don't you?"

"Yes"

Immediately John knew something serious was wrong. She had agreed with him far too readily.

"Now, Cameron, I know you think that you're doing the right thing when you keep certain truths from me. And I understand why. Really, I do. But this is not one of the things that I will be happy to be ignorant about. So I need to know"

"It was a cyst." she eventually revealed.

"A cyst? Like what Mom had?"

"Yes, but it was not formed around a foreign object".

"So what 'was' it formed around?"

Cameron looked at the floor and remained quiet.

"Cameron? You can tell me anything, you know that. It doesn't make any difference to me what it was, but it seems to have compromised your healing process.

We need to resolve this so that you can heal again".

"What if it is more than that?"

He says nothing, but looks quizzically at her.

"What if I am losing my skin?"

"What?"

"I don't want to lose my skin. You used to say that it didn't matter whether or not I had skin. You would love me the same, regardless." A single teardrop betrayed her calm voice. How could she tell him that she believes his love will falter without the physical intimacy that has now developed.

"Oh Cameron, of course I will love you as much without skin, as with". He slowly and carefully wiped away the tear. "You are my true love, my soul mate, my confidante, my every and only reason to get up and take the fight forward. Why do you doubt me?"

She knows her doubts would kill him a little, inside. She will not do that to him, she says nothing.

'Why did this issue jump straight to *no skin*?'. It was clear to John that Cameron believed she was going to lose her skin, and the thought of it being a real possibility started to grow in his mind.

"Cameron, what was inside the cyst?" He hoped his direct question and the manner in which it was put had conveyed the sincerity in his heart.

This was torture of the worst kind. What could be so bad that she couldn't tell him? What had happened to her? Was it her fault? Was it his? Was she truly losing her skin? For the love of sanity, why wouldn't she just tell him? He can't stand it any longer, grabbing Cameron by the shoulders he wills her to look him in the face. The five seconds it takes her to raise her melancholic gaze seems to last for ever. She cannot deny him the truth any longer. The pain and confusion in his eyes threaten the very foundations of her existence. He does at least deserve to know why she would, in all probability, end up having to leave him.

"The cyst was protecting me from...coagulative necrosis"

"What?"

"Localised blood starvation has caused the death of cells in my biological covering. If left untreated in humans, it becomes gangrenous. My body produced a cyst around it, similar to a computer virus being quarantined. Normally, this wouldn't happen to terminators. Our bodies are made to self repair, but there are limits to this. We are designed so that our dermal covering will last far longer than human tissue, although it is not an exact science. I believe that the explosion set by Sarkissian is partly responsible for the shortened life of my...body. It took a lot of damage that day. The explosion, electrocution, being crushed between two trucks."

John is stunned by this revelation, and can only manage to slowly shake his head in a vain attempt to change the cruel fate that had beset his one and only reason to carry on. 'This could be my fault'.

"The cause of the necrosis is the reason this scar isn't healing, a compromised blood supply. Having no bone marrow, I cannot produce much new blood. There are finite resources built in to my combat chassis, they are now exhausted."

John steps forward and envelopes her in his arms, she yields. John smiles at the juxtaposition, the protectee seemingly guarding the protector. Fate has found a chi nk in her armour, one that will allow him to finally repay her for all that she has done for him. He pulls back enough to allow him to kiss the top of her head, "We will beat this, we will find a way...together...I promise". She raises her arm so that she can carress his face, a symbol of gratitude.

/non-end sry


	14. Beauty

**Beauty**

Outside, the sun continues to set.

The world gets on with it's activities, unperturbed.

Time in the Connor's hallway, to it's lone occupant, appears to be struggling with arthritic lethargy. 'How long does it take for her to get ready? I know she doesn't do this getting-dressed-up thing very often, but jeez.' He has lost track of the times he's checked his watch, of the times he has stopped and stared upstairs at the sound of a door, of the times he has straightened his tie in the mirror. Hearing a floorboard creak he spins round to see her standing on the top step. Resplendent in the last rays of the sun as it retreats below the horizon to avoid, in his opinion, the greater beauty.

'She looks truly amazing' is the dominant thought occupying his mind. He stands transfixed as she treads lightly down the stairs, silk flowing about her legs, moving with so much more grace than he thought was physically possible. She pauses to record his face in her memory. Her gown of deep green hues hangs, now idle, from spaghetti straps. The close fitting bodice emphasizes her peerless form. It is more than apparent that she has foregone the wearing of underwear, in order to achieve the desired seamless finish. He tries not to stare but becomes a rabbit caught in the headlights of the car that will run him down, and kill him.

From some unknown resource, he manages to rouse himself to at least 'resemble' an autonomous being. Reaching out with his hand to symbolically invite her to complete the journey from God-like perfection to mere mortal status, he waits at the foot of the stairs. Barely able to breathe, the few seconds he is left lingering stretch out to unknown length. In her own time, not wishing to rush through these soon to be treasured moments, she indulges his hand with hers.

Realising that speech is utterly beyond him, he swims in her beauty. Relishing and committing to memory every single exquisite feature. She looks questioningly at him, while a scarcely audible word escapes her subtly painted lips "What?"

He has no words for her. No words that could possibly do her justice. Tears well in his eyes as he inwardly acknowledges the futility of spoken language to communicate his feelings. She needs no further explanation. A slight smile plays on her lips, it is repaid in kind. Handing him an ethereal fichu, she turns away and anticipates his warm attention. A heavenly scent meets his nostrils as he completes her attire. Hair, trained up and around her head, reveals a seldom seen nape. Placing the softest kiss he can muster on the side of her denuded neck, he takes command of himself and whispers "With all my heart, I love you Cameron Phillips. I always have, and always will."

She turns and places her hand in the crook of his now proffered arm. "John, It's time to go."

He is the man that will save all of humanity, and yet he is completely humbled in the presence of this flawless creation, this Venus from a future he is destined to prevent.

/end


	15. Final Scene

a/n This is in response to a challenge. To write the final scene of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. This is a little AU, in as much as, Ms Weaver and John Henry did not jump forward in time and did not survive JD (I'm sorry J0hn_Henry). Also, Cameron achieved a full personality.

I don't expect people to like this - especially olischulu - but it was in me, so I wrote it. Enjoy...or not.

Edit - In response to comments, I have tried to blend the flashbacks seamlessly into the story, in a similar manner to _'Out of Gas'_, an episode of the much loved TV show _'Firefly'_.

**Final Scene**

She stands, a lone sentinel, at the window. A lonely sentinel.

Four hours had passed, not one sentient life form had destroyed the perfect tranquillity of the landscape before her.

However, the predictability of nothingness bored her. She longed to tell someone, anyone, about her journey and how she had arrived at this point in time. She longed to talk about John...lest he be forgotten. No-one disturbs her, no-one visits, it is understandable.

A message flashes up in her HUD "45 minutes remaining."

"Soon," she thinks to herself.

As she crosses the room, intending to enter the workshop, she halts and gazes at the writing desk at the far end of the dining area. John sits there, writing in a small book. As Cameron creeps up on him from his blind side, he hears, and quickly closes the book, keeping its contents safe from prying eyes. "I only want a peek" she says with a girlish lilt.

"Well you can't have one." he replies with mock severity, "It's my diary, and it's secret."

Spurned, she regards him through slitted eyes. "Well, I shall have to keep one of my own then, full of secrets" she teases.

John turns in his seat and pulls her down to sit on his lap "Would you really keep secrets from me? You know I will have to punish you..." Their giggling voices fade with the memory and Cameron finds herself alone once more.

John had made the desk, with his own hands, 87 years previously. She has dusted it daily, and polished it regularly. It is the one thing left that she truly cherishes. All other artefacts had either been lost or broken during the many relocations, or fallen into disrepair over the years since they were last used or needed. She absent-mindedly strokes the inlaid surface with her fingertips, and then starts at the realisation that she is standing directly in front of it, but has no recollection of walking across the room to get there. Her learned reactions would always amuse John, he loved to see how much she had grown. Sensing his presence she turns, but even before she moves she knows that he is not there. She misses him every day, some days it is unbearable. Some days she wishes to be 'just a machine', a cold emotionless machine. But even that salvation is denied her, evolution is, apparently, a one way trip. She had been without him for so long, but not for much longer.

Forcing herself to leave the memory behind, she continues to her original destination, the workshop. There it is, her creation, her solution to a problem. Although, technically, she wasn't sure it was still a problem. She could not predict the future, but she could guard against possible events, "Better safe than sorry."

"What?"

"Better safe tha...don't worry about it" John shouts above the sound of the roaring engine.

"I can hear you, I just don't understand, I don't need a crash helmet." she shouts, so that he can hear her.

John waves his hand and then points to his ear while shaking his head "Humour me." She puts on the crash helmet, then the aviator sun glasses. John looks her up and down, she is dressed from head to toe in black leather, with studs, and strappy boots, and a shiny black helmet. "We are totally badass" he shouts as Cameron climbs on the back of the Harley. "Go on...say it."

"We are totally badass" she shouts in a deadpan that only she could achieve.

"Ain't we just"...

Cameron watches as they drive out of the workshop and mingle with the pre Judgement Day traffic of LA...

"30 minutes remaining"

Time for a final check of the equipment. She presses a button and hears the generators in the lean-to kick into life. Once the laptop has booted she loads the program and starts to check the parameters of the hardware that it is connected to. "What are you doing?" an innocently curious voice asked from behind.

"I'm just checking something".

"You have to do that now? Sitting at my desk in the middle of the night...naked?"

Her eyebrows arch as she looks over her shoulder "Look who's calling who naked."

John lightly snorts, "Touché."

A faint sigh comes before "I thought you were going to disable it, we agreed."

He starts pacing guiltily "Yes I know we did."

"So why is it still..?"

"I couldn't do it, okay? I just couldn't."

"But John..."

"I know...I know. You're the last of your kind. Skynet and its hordes have been melted down, there is nothing left to reverse engineer...except...you." He kneels down in front of her, cupping the side of her face with his hand "Beautiful you." Stroking her cheek with his thumb "Unique you."

"Unsafe me"

He knew she was right, it made perfect logical sense, damn her. But how could he condemn her to death, upon his own death. "I'm sorry Cameron, but it stays. You will not be able to self terminate."

She knew it had been an act of love, but this gift of longevity had it's demons. John...they...had fought so hard for the future of mankind, and the destruction of Skynet. Battled against insurmountable odds, and prevailed. Emerged the victor, but were unaware of the ultimate conclusion. In the years that followed the war, few women got pregnant. Whether it was the radiation or the malnutrition, or a combination of both, the outcome was severe. Of the handful of pregnancies that went full term, all suffered from mutations that either killed the babies within hours of birth, or mercifully, they were stillborn. There were no more generations.

"2 minutes remaining"

"Time to go"

Lying down in the incineration chamber was not an act of self termination. She had no intention of 'killing' herself. She had no need to. Her fuel cell had reached the end of its life and would cease to function. She would die of natural causes, the failure of a component. The irony of her situation struck her. She had witnessed the human race die from unnatural causes, and she, the most unnatural creation, would die in the expected manner.

No-one will mourn her passing, no-one will write notes for her, it is understandable, they are all dead. A terminator had outlived humanity, Skynet wins.

Once the equipment can no longer read an output from her power source, the cremation sequence will destroy all traces of the last sentience on earth.

"Thank you John, for loving me" She knew he couldn't hear her. She knew he was long dead. Saying it out loud, just seemed like something she should do.

/end

a/n - Mention of Cameron keeping a secret diary is no coincidence, it is a nod of recognition to Pjazz's wonderful _'Secret Diary of Cameron Baum'_ which can be found on this site.

Edited for grammar corrections, sry.


	16. The Prisoner

A/n Just a short about an unnamed soldier, who was 'questioned' about his base.

**The Prisoner**

His head hit a hard surface. A sliding, bouncing blow to the protruding part of his skull just above the temple. The sackcloth didn't help, rather than softening the impact it merely got embedded into the raw and swollen flesh. A crimson patch soon became visible on its outer surface. Strong hands lifted him back onto the chair. "Fuck you!" he hissed through the shattered stumps of teeth that were all that remained of his once white smile. His body arched in pain as the voltage was, yet again, applied to the electrodes. His punishment for talking out of turn. He couldn't breath while they shocked him, but the bastards wouldn't let him die through asphyxiation. Soon enough the circuit was broken and his breath came in harsh, rasping gusts that sprayed thick spittle onto and into the cloth that separated him from 'them'.

They wanted information. Information that he had, that he could give them. But he wouldn't give them anything. He knew that he was dead either way. Giving them what they wanted wouldn't save him, it would simply end the pain, end everything.

A gentle whirring noise to his left caught his attention. It was one of them. It was standing there, watching him, he was sure of it.

"Where is your base located?" came the harsh, unfinished, metallic voice. "Your base, where is it?"

No reply.

A vice like grip lifted his left wrist, metal claws effortlessly pulled open his fist. By struggling and resisting he hoped that the impending torture could be delayed long enough that the lack of blood getting to his hand would dull the pain of what was about to happen. Oh, he knew there would be pain, it was the one thing that was certain. The third finger had been chosen. He could feel the slight clamping force as his finger was held, which meant that he wasn't numb and that he should brace himself.

"Your base?"

"Go to hell"

As the pressure slowly increased he could feel the skin and flesh compacting onto the bone. Finally the bone gave up and fractured along its length. Slithers of razor sharp bone punctured the flesh at the sides of his finger, the flesh that hadn't been crushed, the flesh that still had sensation. His screams of pain echoed off the hard walls of the room. The only human voice he heard since his capture was his own, but at this moment in time it brought no comfort. It merely increased his sense of isolation.

They weren't finished with his finger. The nerves were still alive, they could still generate pain. Holding the end of his finger and twisting it through 270° introduced a whole new level of agony as the middle joint disintegrated under the torque. Unable to take any more, he slipped into unconsciousness.

When he came to he was alone, lying on a metal gurney, or more accurately, strapped to a metal gurney. It took him several minutes to realise that his head was free from its sackcloth cocoon. The room was bare and dilapidated but to his right was a wide mirror that was in such good condition it instantly looked out of place and wrong. Lifting his head to see his reflection was painful, but what was a little bit of pain compared to what he had already endured. His jaw slowly dropped as he took in what had happened to him, what 'they' had done to him. An area of skin was completely missing from his head, exposing the skull that should have been hidden, and safe. He no longer had a right foot, although he couldn't remember them taking it, thankfully. The ring finger was now absent from his left hand, that was still fresh in his memory. There were row upon row of fresh wounds that opened at various points when he flexed his body. They had just been slicing into him to get him to talk. He dared not open his mouth to see the damage to his teeth because he could feel those nerves were still alive and well, he didn't relish the pain that a blast of cold air would bring him. A small movement in one of his wounds caught his eye. He couldn't quite see what it was at first so he painfully moved as much as his tethers would allow, and instantly regretted it. He had maggots in his wounds. Fucking maggots!


	17. Misguided Love

I wanted this story to be finished for Valentines Day but missed it by quite a lot.

**Misguided love**

She sits cross legged and naked on the floor, his lifeless body in front of her. Not sure of what to do, she waits. Light from the moon slowly inches its way across the carpet towards the two motionless bodies. His, lying face down in a congealed pool of his own blood. Hers, sitting erect and stationary, a silent vigil for the dead. The cold lunar light picks out a trail of brain matter and skull fragments. Gruesome detritus that litters the floor between the couple and the relatively small hole in the wall, where the bullet had ended its short, but destructive journey.

This is not how it was supposed to end. This is not … right.

A single tear escapes, runs down her cheek and lands on her exposed left breast. The breast that mere hours earlier he had stroked, and kissed, and loved. She had given herself to him, bathed and perfumed, gift wrapped in a negligee. His valentine. He was unsure at first, unsure of her ability to return his love. Unsure of others that would not understand, others that would refuse to understand.

Every fibre of his body had wanted this, had screamed out for this. He had dreamed of this moment ever since they had first met, before he knew what she was, and more so afterwards. His thoughts in turmoil, his conscience raging against baser instincts. Hormones on the rise demanding attention.

Through the paralysing internal cacophony a single word rang out "John?" Silencing his thoughts he gazed upon her angelic face, a slight smile on her lips, a question in her eyes. All thoughts of resistance evaporated. One hand on her waist, the other caressing her neck, he leant in and gently kissed her full and pouting lips. The spider's web was cast and he was the willing victim. He felt her hands slide up inside the back of his shirt and slowly pull him towards her. More kisses and ragged breathing. Firm, unfettered breasts pressed against his chest, urging him on. He broke away and almost tore the shirt from his back. Taking his hand she led him slowly to the bed, where she carefully undid his jeans and let them fall to the floor. He was temporarily confused when she turned her back on him, until she pulled her long tresses of fruit scented hair to one side, revealing the thin cords that held the gossamer negligee in place. Kissing the nape of her neck again and again, he slowly tugged on the strands until the featherlight garment floated away to reveal the athletic body of a Goddess.

Leather gloves creaked quietly on wooden stock, as an observer fought the disgust and revulsion that the scene in front of them provoked. A slight sweat glistening on their upper lip. 'That's right Johnny-boy, have your fun, get it out of your system', they silently voiced.

Even with a high end scope on the rifle, the subdued lighting around the target made positive identification tricky. But until the sniper was sure, the safety was staying on. They weren't risking the wrong life gets snuffed out. Time and time again a clear shot became available only to disappear as quickly as it had arrived. There would only be one chance, one chance to stop this unnatural obscenity. That one chance must not be wasted.

Hours had passed, all seemed quiet. Dawn was only two hours away, but his patience would be rewarded soon enough.

The slight glow of a mobile phone illuminated the childish wallpaper. His adrenaline rose, attenuating senses, increasing responsiveness. There ... a face. Someone was reading from the phone's screen. He could almost make out the features, but he needed to be sure. A flare of light hit his retina as the main lamp was turned on in the target's room. Briefly bleaching out all detail. Six hours of near total blackness had left his eyes unprepared for even a moderate amount of light. Slowly the facial features coalesced into a recognisable face.

THE face.

The face that he had been wanting to see at the wrong end of his rifle for so long, focussed in the center of the scope. Taking aim he steadied his breathing. 'Aim for the eye, it's the weakest point'. For a fraction of a second the mid point of the crosshairs lined up with the corner of his target's eye. A little squeeze was all it took to unleash the high velocity round at slightly less than 4,000 ft/s. Decimating the fragile glass in the window, the small packet of metal death hurtled towards its intended victim. John's body disappeared from sight but the tell tale red stain on the blue and white wallpaper was all he needed to see. Confirmation that he had killed that incestuous bastard, John Baum.

Morris had appointed himself as Judge, Jury, and executioner. He packed up his sniper rifle and walked away. He knew Cameron would be devastated, he couldn't help that, but he would be there for her, as her only friend at school. Her emotional crutch, her strength.

/end

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	18. A Lone Runner

a/n: This is a response to a challenge to write about Badell. What do we know about him? He loves to run! I know it's short, but...

**A Lone Runner**

Bedell runs alone through the woods, along a seldom used path. He prefers it that way, being alone.

His thoughts are his own. No-one there to distract him, or tell him he's wrong. No-one there to pour scorn on his efforts or ridicule him for being weak. Those days are long behind him, but still he runs alone. Relishing the peace and solitude that gave him the inner strength and the determination to change. He runs alone, leaving his problems behind, letting them just fall away.

It had been a long time since that day at Presidio Alto, where his future had come crashing in to destroy his carefully made plans. He had met a girl, Alesia, and had fallen in love with her, and she with him. They had planned to leave this life behind and start anew on their own, away from all the pressures of parental expectations. He had always fought his way through life, trying to prove himself to his Father. Always falling short of the mark. Five generations of his family had been officers in the army, high ranking officers, and the baton was waiting for him to carry it on. He wasn't sure if it had been deep resentment of his Father or just a growing need to be his own man, but he felt no compunction any more to blindly follow someone else's plans for 'his' life.

His mind set, the fulfilment of his own plans tangibly close, and then 'he' had turned up. John Connor, the harbinger of death, chaos following in his wake. A wolf in sheep's clothing, here to consume the future and leave Badell with only scraps to tide him over.

Badell runs alone, always alone. He prefers it that way. A military man through and through. Strong. Independent. Unapproachable. Alone. Always alone.

He pushes himself harder down the trail, faster and more determined. He has a mission, he must not fail. A mission of his own choosing. He enters a clearing and slows his pace, regaining his breath, recovering from the exertion. Finally coming to a halt at the edge of a lake. Looking skyward he sees movement, an eagle gliding across the heavens. Dark clouds on the horizon warn of an approaching storm, but he is unconcerned. His mind is focused on one thought, and one thought alone, "Today is the day".

As contrails divide the sky, he turns and runs alone. Always alone, he prefers it that way.

/end


	19. Conflicted

**Conflicted**

She lay, corpse like, on the thick granite slab of the overly ornate lectern that served as John Connor's desk.

The desk was a treasure that had been rescued from the crumbling shell of a once opulent mansion. It had been pretty much the only thing there that hadn't been destroyed during the countless raids by Skynet's forces. There are so few unblemished artefacts remaining in the post Judgement Day world, that when one is found, it is seized and taken to a place of safety. Lest it be lost to the mechanism of war.

It seemed only fitting, in John's eyes, that Skynet's finest creation should be resting in such close proximity to an undeniably fine human creation. The other members of his inner circle didn't share his appreciation for either the temporarily inanimate Terminator, or the work of an artist at the very peak of his abilities. They were military men, born and bred, devoid of any aesthetic appreciation or acknowledgement of a craftsman's efforts. Unless those efforts afforded them ever more efficient methods of bringing death and horror down upon one and other. They were even less impressed that he had given her a real name, a human name. The files referred to her as FIU.1. - Female Infiltration Unit 1, but John had named her Cameron … Cameron Phillips.

A thin, unstarched, cotton sheet covered her entirely. Contours that demanded Johns' appreciation, went unobserved as he finished the task at hand. Her breasts did not rise and fall with every breath, she was not breathing. Her athletic stomach remained sculptured and still. Her eyes, blank and unseeing. The subroutines responsible for faking natural functions and reflexes were not running. She was in a state of death, awaiting rebirth.

Three years ago, her primary mission to kill John had been unsuccessful, and she had been reprogrammed...

_Her hand was around his throat, constricting like a tourniquet. A growing darkness had invaded his vision, all thoughts of escape left him, he was dead meat. And yet, she faltered. The cold, killer's expression that had replaced the respectful but admiring face of Corporal Young, had itself been replaced. Supplanted by what could only be described as ... uncertainty? Her grip had already relaxed. The deafening thud of his heart in his ears, lessened. Her questioning face slid from view as a reprogrammed unit restrained the would-be assassin, and removed her chip. She offered no resistance._

She was different, a breakthrough in chip architecture that allowed free thought. Skynet clearly didn't realise what it had created in its search for advancement. Just as Cyberdyne was ignorant of what it was unleashing upon the world back in 2011. John new she would be the key to Skynet's downfall.

John's freshly rewritten programme and data streamed into her chip, as it sat atop an elaborate tower of reclaimed and rebuilt computer systems. John had had to create a mini super-computer by combining a dozen of the highest performing computers available. Her chip was unique and needed a lot more computing power to restrain it than the T888 chip. When connected to a standard reprogramming rig, she simply reprogrammed the rig into a convenient interface for her to 'see' the outside world. Networked computers were forbidden, but Connor could probably get away with it. However, if anyone discovered his latest foray into the realm of 'mad scientist', it would spell the end for him and, no doubt, the reprogrammed units.

He leant back in his chair, stretched and flexed his aching spine, feet off the ground to balance him. As he did so, the chair swivelled slowly round so that he was facing her cadaverous form. Was it pure chance that the chair turned, a nominal bias, or a shifted center of gravity, or the simple fact that every cell in John's body wanted to see her as much as possible before she went, never to return?

He sauntered over towards her resting place, and sat down carefully on the edge of the table, as if to avoid disturbing her. The paperweights that held down the top two corners of the sheet, clunked onto the granite as the simple cover was removed from beneath them. He carefully, and with due respect, pulled down the shroud to reveal her head and shoulders. A vision of perfection. Three years on, and he never tired of seeing her face, of seeing her.

"I had never noticed the beauty of this face when it had been Allison's, and if you were to ask me now what she was like … her personality? I would be struggling to think of anything about her that I could remember. Does that make me a bad person?" He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

He rose and paced the floor. "It is not the face that's important. It is what lies beneath". Turning his head to look at her, "You intrigue me, you are a machine that thinks for itself. By rights, I should be destroying you, not repairing you. But ... you fascinate me. You make me consider the possibilities. If we had a way of creating more of you, then we might stand a chance of ...".

The intercom's buzzing disturbs his train of thought. It was one of the bubbletechs, they were ready for him at the TDE.

As if by some portent, the uploading of data onto Cameron's chip completed and the alert played at the very second the intercom message ended. John released a resigned sigh. This was all happening a lot faster than he had thought it would.

When they arrived at the TDE installation, John ordered all staff to leave. And so he was alone with her, as he has been many times. This time it was different. This time he didn't want to be here, and yet he knew he had to be. He was conflicted. Begrudgingly, he entered the control room to set the co-ordinates, he alone knew the location and date he would send her to. Whilst double checking a printout he returned to the main room. Satisfied that all was in order he looked for Cameron where he had left her, but all that was there was a neatly folded pile of clothes. Then he saw her, standing in position on the TDE pad, as naked as the day she was made. He knew that nudity wasn't an issue for her. Whether she was clothed or not was as relevant to her as whether or not it was a Wednesday in a post apocalyptic wasteland.

His voice raised, above the noise of the engines, "Shouldn't you be squatting down, or something?" If only to be able to reclaim control over his own thoughts.

She didn't reply, she simply squatted down on one knee in the center of the TDE pad, head down, staring at the floor. She had been strangely reticent since she had been reactivated, and had only responded perfunctorily to his questions and instructions.

A sudden impulse gripped him, "Cameron?"

"Yes?"

"I think … I think I ..." the words died in his throat.

He didn't want to tell her, he didn't want to admit it to himself. He didn't want to give the thought life by saying it out loud. How could he feel this way towards a machine? It was insane. It was wrong! And yet it was the sanest thing of his entire life. The howl from the jet engines rose even further, and the air became filled with an electrical charge. The moment was almost upon him.

_"It's now or never, Connor"_ a voice shouts from inside his head.

"Cameron?"

She lifted her head, "Yes?"

"I love you".

Her blank face stared back for what seemed, to John, an eternity. Finally her gaze returned to the floor ahead of her as the noise and reverberation reach almost unbearable levels. He berated himself. Of course she had no response, _"She doesn't know what love is. How could she! She's just a machine!"_

In the climaxing moments of TDE activity all fields were balanced, energy levels were equalised, air was frozen in place, there was a still and eerie silence. An almost unearthly lack of sound, John thought he had gone deaf, but then he heard it. A voice so plaintive and so shaken, that it burnt itself into his memory until the day he died.

She had simply said "I know", and she was gone.

/end


End file.
